The Beach of Troy
by Trust No One
Summary: Movie verse - in which Achilles and Hector exchange words outside the plundered temple of Apollo and the lesson that Achilles learns from his enemy.


**The ****Beach**** of ****Troy******

By Trust No One

Rating: PG – General

Summary: Movie verse - in which Achilles and Hector exchange a few words outside the plundered temple of Apollo and the lesson that Achilles learns from his enemy.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Some lines have been taken directly from the movie.

A/N: This is a once off for me, since this is not my usual fandom, so bear with me…

The two warriors regarded each other deliberately.

Sea blue eyes, mirror image of the finely honed blade in their owner's hands, drowned into dark, almost black pools of barely disguised hatred and disgust. The invader did not flinch and it seemed that an eternity passed before the rest of the Myrmidons filed out of the pillaged temple of Apollo to surround the Trojan prince.

An imperceptible sign from their master and the faithful servants of Achilles stopped in their tracks. Achilles saw wonderment spread on each and every one of their faces. Was the great warrior not intent on fighting the Trojan? Slaying a member of the royal family this early on in the hostilities was indeed going to be the best of omens. Show the Trojans that the Greeks meant business.

But something like _this_ had not happened before.

Did they see the admiration, albeit grudging, mirrored in his eyes, Achilles wondered? Surely, any moment now Achilles would run his blade through the heart of Priam's son and claim what was rightfully his: victory, effortless and unconditional.

'There will be no more blood spilt today,' Achilles said slowly. 'Go home, prince of Troy.'

'There was enough blood spilt today to wash the whole beach of Troy in shame,' Hector's restrained tone belied the wrath rippling in his eyes.

'Killing unarmed men, desecrating a temple! You've done unspeakable harm. The gods will not look upon this lightly.' This time, the words were spat out with barely masked disdain.

'Such are the fortunes of war,' Achilles replied indifferently and Hector recoiled visibly at the blatantly sacrilegious words of the one hailed as the greatest warrior alive. 'Let them strike me down, then,' he added in such a mocking tone and with a gesture so irreverent that his own men lowered their eyes in shame.

'It is plain that you have nothing sacred,' Hector said with a hint of regret that Achilles could feel even behind the half-concealed face of his opponent. 'He who has nothing to lose is the most dangerous enemy of them all.'

'Do you fear for your life, prince?' Achilles lips pulled back in a scornful smile. 'Did I not give you free passage? You can leave and none of my men shall harm you.'

'I do not fear death,' Hector replied truthfully. 'I fear that which would befall my country afterwards.'

Achilles watched his enemy closely. It was not often that he found a man that inspired respect. Odysseus was one of them. And to his surprise, Hector was fast becoming another.

'Why do you do it?' Hector asked, his tone calm again, as if he could read Achilles' thoughts. He seemed genuinely interested in finding out what his enemy was made of.

In his turn, Achilles honoured his adversary with the truth.

'For glory and immortality. And for my name to be remembered forever.'

'A noble cause indeed,' was Hector's sharp reply and there was nothing mocking about his words. But his next words cut through Achilles with the force of a blade searing his flesh.

'Is that all you have ever known, then? Have you no home, no hearth, no woman who would mourn your death?'

'We all die,' Achilles replied lazily, watching Hector through half-lidded eyes that disproved his inner tumult, 'what counts is the manner in which we choose to met our end. I see no other way for myself. I would rather have my name spoken for eternity than fade to dust and ashes.'

'Eternity?' Hector's smile was just as scathing as Achilles'. 'I'll let you in on a secret, great Achilles: I would rather have my name forgotten than forsake the chance of living a quiet life beside my wife and watching my son grow up. Have you ever looked into a woman's face and seen your unborn child in her eyes? Have you ever known the joy of being proven right when that child was born?'

There was a fleeting smile behind the helmet at the memory, thought the dark eyes did not relent. Achilles averted his gaze uncomfortably.

'I thought not,' Hector said quietly.

Achilles' patience was beginning to fray thin. Did this defiant prince, however intriguing and undoubtedly valiant, not realize how close he was to having his throat slit for his impertinence? Commanding presence or not, nobody had spoken to Achilles like that and lived to tell the tale. Yet there he sat, still as a statue, eyes blazing, facing the man he now knew to be his one worthy adversary in life.

'I pity you, Achilles, greatest of warriors, for you have not lived! Not a thousand battles and victories would fill out the hollow of your soul. Not ten thousand slaves that you take to your bed would give you that which you crave and you don't even know it!'

'Do not presume to pity me, son of Priam, for it will be your woman bereft of her husband before long and your son who will grow fatherless,' Achilles snarled.

'That may indeed be,' Hector continued, and his tone left no doubt that he believed in what he said, rather than trying to provoke Achilles, 'but then again, I have seen war and led my men to victory many times. I have also lived in peace and thanked the gods for every moment of it. And I have understood that the only reason why I would lead my men to war again is the knowledge that I could return to the peace of my homeland. And for that, I would fight you, Myrmidon, and your band of mercenaries, to my last breath. You however, know nothing of these things. But we must all abide by the paths that we have chosen.'

With immense effort, Achilles mastered his temper and the desire to smite Hector down there and then.

'Go home, prince,' he said quietly. 'Drink some wine, make love to your wife. Tomorrow we shall have our war.'

'Why do _you _not go home, Achilles son of Peleus? Why wage war on a country that has done nothing to you? This is not your fight.'

'As it isn't yours, Trojan,' Achilles returned tartly. The mere mention, however veiled, of Agamemnon and the real mechanics behind this futile war, rendered Achilles speechless with rage, 'It is the feud of two men over a woman. It shouldn't be anyone's war. But it is. And we are pitched against each other with no chance than to take this to its logical conclusion, even if that means death.'

'This _is_ my fight,' came the dignified reply, 'for I am defending my country against a madman. A madman whose lust for power would turn to such folly that it would use the exploits of a young man and of an equally foolish young woman to wage a war he has desired for years. Who would think nothing of making widows out of his countrymen's wives in order to satisfy his need to plunder and possess.'

The burning, accusatory stare inside the helmet pinioned Achilles with a force unlike he had ever known.

Achilles knew full well the effect he had on his opponents. The greatest of warriors had quailed before him. Yet somehow Hector was different. Standing there, surrounded by enemies, the single survivor of a carnage that had taken place only moments before, Hector looked no less terrible than if he had the entire Trojan army behind him. A mere nod from Achilles, or better still, a swing of his sword, was all it took to dispatch with the one man who stood between Troy and Agamemnon, and thus render the finest army in the East leaderless and throw the war wide open.

But it was neither the time, nor would Agamemnon's victory be so easily purchased. And Achilles knew better than to extract his triumph by fighting a man who was surrounded.

'We shall meet again, you and I, prince of Troy…' said Achilles finally.

Hector's eyes focused for a moment on his foe's face, as if trying to imprint Achilles' features in his memory.

'I have no doubt about that,' he replied and without another word, Hector turned on his heels and hurried down the temple stairs.

Reluctantly, Achilles watched his still-dazed men stand aside, giving Hector free passage. The prince mounted his horse and galloped away in a whirl of sand and dust.

Achilles was glad that he wasn't in Hector's position. If he so wished, Achilles could order his men to board ship and leave the coast of Troy forever. And his reputation would suffer no dent for it.

On the other hand, bonds of honour and allegiance to his country, had forced Hector into this position, and his predicament was one that Achilles was only too happy to know nothing about. Sooner or later they would meet in combat. Sooner or later their blood would seep into the sand and become mingled with that of the thousands that still had to fall victim to a madman's whim.

…A week later…

In the small hours of the morning, Achilles lay awake in his tent, holding a sleeping Briseis tightly against him. She breathed softly on his skin, filling him with warmth that lingered for hours after their lovemaking. He had never felt safer and more loved, or less daunted by what the future held.

With each passing day, Hector's words were slowly falling into place, like the pieces of a fateful puzzle and Achilles knew just how painfully accurate his enemy had been. The gods did indeed envy mortals. Someone like Achilles, undefeated and mighty beyond anything humanly possible, would maybe cause them to raise and eyebrow. But someone like Hector, someone who was so… complete, would undeniably draw the envy of mortals and immortals alike.

And Achilles knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he himself would be the extension of that envy. His punishment for desecrating Apollo's statue would come in the shape of having to kill this most extraordinary of beings who had made him understand that the woman that he held in his arms was more important to him than the thousand victories he had achieved single-handedly. But that, like Hector, he would have to leave her alone and bereft, to fight a battle that wasn't his and to achieve the destruction that was commanded by the blood lust of a madman.

Softly, so as not to awaken her, Achilles pressed his lips to Briseis' hair, breathing in the scent that he had come to love and relishing in a moment that he knew was as fleeting as his mortal life. And in the darkness of the invaders' camp, shrouded in the silence before the storm, Achilles wept.

The End


End file.
